


Courtyard Conversations

by sparklight



Series: Coming Home [3]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Background Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore) - Freeform, Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Minor Demeter/Iasion (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Mother-Daughter Relationship, Past Demeter/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: It's been nearly a hundred years since Persephone's abduction and subsequent marriage to Hades, and none of the people involved (save the couple themselves, by necessity) have really talked about any of this. Zeus attempting to talk with Demeter about another topic entirely brings it all to a head, however, and what follows is a couple conversations over several years between various iterations of the people involved in this family drama.Not everyone will see eye to eye on this matter, but that doesn't mean things can't change, and perhaps even for the better.
Relationships: Demeter & Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Demeter & Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Persephone & Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: Coming Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883899
Kudos: 5





	1. Unsolveable Disputes

The drakones wound their way through the air, beautiful, sinuous movements that pulled Demeter and her chariot across the sky in a far more effortless appearance than the thundering of flying horses' hooves. There was, she supposed, nothing wrong with horses, but she'd always preferred lizards of various sorts, so when it had come time to properly get a chariot of her own, a pair of drakones had been the obvious choice. To her it'd been obvious, anyway.

Everyone else had been rather appalled, though Hestia had come around surprisingly quickly. She’d been the first to do so, then Zeus. He'd said they suited her.

Pressing her lips together at the unwelcome stray thought, Demeter focused past her drakones and their winding flight to the view of ocean and land below. The coastal lands of Luwian Arzawa stretched out to her left, Dardanos and its new sister city of Troy left far to the north. Not quite beyond her most familiar ranges, but getting there. Finally she reached the mountain, a dead volcano, and the city at its foot that was her goal. 

Circling it, she homed in on the palace and frowned as she spotted the chariots already there. She would be the last, then. She hadn't exactly planned to come at all first, and when she saw who was lurking in the shadows of the entrance, Demeter almost turned right around.

She didn't.

Instead, she landed and made sure the reins were secured before she stepped off the chariot.

"Zeus." Demeter crossed her arms over her chest, staring her brother right in the eyes as he stepped out of the shadows and came up to stroke the nearest drakon on its snout with a light hand. 

It let him, the traitor. 

She might not be as angry as she'd been not quite a hundred years ago now, might no longer be as angry and upset as she'd been sixteen years ago, and she might long since have rejoined the company of the gods on Olympos, but that didn't mean she did it often. Or with good humour, when it came to Zeus' presence. 

Coming with the rest to the palace of one of his mortal sons had rankled. Well-appointed and overflowing in wealth and generosity both Tantalos and his palace were, to be sure, and Demeter knew it had been the right decision to give in to Hestia's prodding. All of them coming would give the right image and signals, and all the wrong ones would be taken by Demeter staying away. 

Her anger wasn't mortal business, and for all that she'd made the mortals suffer back when Persephone was first taken, this wasn't even about that. 

This was, once again, about Zeus, and about Zeus' conduct at Kadmos and Harmonia's wedding. But they were most certainly not going to talk about the wedding, or what had happened during it. He'd only point out that if she was going to behave in such a way, she ought to have been more circumspect. It was infuriating, for she wasn't even sure she could dispute that part. No one ever looked much askance at Zeus and Poseidon for sleeping with whoever they wished, but when she did it and didn't marry the man afterwards, it clearly was so very awful. Worse when he was thoroughly mortal and not counted among the blessed immortals. Of course, none of that had even been Zeus' actual reason for his furious reaction at the wedding, and they both knew it.

His own son, when Iasion’s crime had been no worse than having slept with a goddess with both of them willing, and he'd killed him. Raised him right after, as rarely was possible, but not from his own regret and good-will. At least not immediately.

"Demeter." Zeus rubbed his thumb over the small scales running from snout and up between the eyes to the top of the drakon's head, and Demeter felt inordinately irritated he somehow still remembered the most favoured spot to pet on the right drakon. On top of that, he was clearly still able to tell them apart! He eyed her from behind the loose fall of his dark hair, then sighed. "You're still angry."

Demeter snorted and made to stomp past her brother. If he wanted to stop avoiding the issue now, he'd find he wasn't the only one who could procrastinate and refuse to talk about an issue.

"Iasion is a good man, but he _is_ only mo---"

"We're not talking about that, Zeus," Demeter snapped, stopping next to him without meaning to. "I already know you don't respect me or what I might want, so we don't need to talk about the additional evidence you've given me as proof of that. Didn't we have a feast to attend?"

Zeus' cloud-gray eyes widened, then narrowed, darkness drawing in along with the pinched expression. He seemed to swell a little as he turned to her, though there was nothing to feel in the sense of him that hadn't already been there. Demeter's eyes narrowed further as their gazes met once more, and the air trembled between them.

"I _do_ respect you and what you want, Demeter!" Zeus' voice was a rumble, low and yet thunderous, filling the whole courtyard without being comprehensible to any mortal that might be within hearing. Demeter doubted any were still lurking around. They were probably all fleeing now either from the change in pressure in the air or having spotted the tension between the two divinities. Just as well. "Do you see me stopping you? Making you marry? But if you can't be more careful when it comes to mortals---"

"Oh, like you, Poseidon, and your sons are?"

How dare he? 

How dare he pretend there truly was any difference between them? Like he was doing her _a favour_ , not enforcing either a marriage or an oath of unmarried, virgin life out of her? For once in his life, outside the flush of arousal, Demeter got to see Zeus blush, however faint and fleeting. He clenched his hands at his sides and then slashed a hand in the air between them.

"The first one wasn't my choice," he growled, and that admission probably hurt him, but Demeter wasn't feeling particularly generous at the moment. "And we _are_ careful in the moment to let no one see us. You were out in the field right next to th---"

No. They were _not_ doing this. Any momentary flicker of reluctant, shamed agreement that might have been wrung out of her evaporated like drops of water flicked onto a hot skillet, hissing their agonized protest.

"You didn’t even deign telling me you were marrying Persephone away." 

She leaned in, air hot and heavy about her, a couple rich blonde strands floating about her face in response to the rising power. This was another topic she wouldn’t have talked about, but aside from moving away from the topic of Iasion, it was a strange relief to finally confront Zeus about it. 

He'd claim he respected her? 

The king he might be, and Persephone's father besides, but if he couldn't bother to take into account what _she_ wanted when it came to their daughter, or talk to her about it, then what respect was there?

Zeus stared at her, for a moment breathless and speechless, the pressure about him gone as if punctured. It was rather pleasing to have taken him by surprise so completely, but Demeter wasn't mollified and her stare up at Zeus stayed hard. There was a throb, faint but growing more insistent, behind her left temple, and Demeter wasn't sure whether it was due to anger, or because she was already running out of what energy she had for dealing with people. People in general. Zeus honestly didn't take more of it than anyone else. Not usually, anyway.

Once, he’d taken even less, but she would not mourn that simplicity. She would not.

"I _was_ going to tell you," Zeus said, somehow managing dignity when it ought to have been sheepish, at the very least. 

Demeter could hear the hidden edge under his tight words, the one that revealed talking to her had fallen victim to Zeus' tendency of not confronting any problem he thought he might be able to get away with not dealing with. He never did this when it came to his position as a king, which was what rescued him and the order of the sphere both, but in personal matters he could be more slippery than a worm on a hook.

"Was," Demeter repeated, tone biting enough for the deepest chill of winter. "You let me search for over a week, and I had to find out from Helios. How is that _respecting me_ , Zeus?"

"You didn't just shut down those first suitors, you _left Olympos_ and then came back alone, for meetings only, and didn't let anyone come visit. If I'd---"

"Artemis and Athena were welcome from the beginning," Demeter said with a sneer, eyeing Zeus and barely able to keep from rolling her eyes. "And I did let Apollo come visit later."

" _If_ I'd tried to talk to you about any marriage beforehand, you would have retreated further," Zeus ground out, arms now crossed over his chest to match Demeter and completely ignoring what she'd said about Artemis, Athena and Apollo. 

Which was reasonably fair, because it was a petty, if entirely correct, thing to point out. She hadn't even really wanted to admit Apollo back into Persephone's presence, not even if he'd only come when his sister did. Persephone had missed him, though, and they had been friends before he'd completely lost his pretty head and decided Persephone was a good candidate to marry. Hadn't attempting to court Hestia after he’d found out he couldn't marry all the Muses been enough? At least he seemed to have settled now, and found marriage as unnecessary while still being involved with the Muses. Zeus was allowing their relationship as well, but that had little to do with this, since apparently her brother couldn't put one and one together and get two.

"Marriage isn't necessary for a good and fulfilling life, Zeus! Did you ever even ask Persephone what she wanted?" She knew he hadn't. She and Persephone hadn't actually talked much, if at all, about Hades or about Persephone's marriage so far, but she knew that much. Persephone had been as unknowing of what was going to happen as Demeter had been.

"Did _you_ ever ask her what she wanted?" Zeus shot back, serious and collected, which was at such stark contrast to his cornered anger of just seconds before it might have left anyone dizzy for it. Demeter sputtered, breathless as if Zeus had punched her. 

It certainly was what she wished to do to him, right then. Squeezing her hands into fists and nails biting into her palms, she stared at him, trying to find words, because what sort of question was that? She didn't, not in time, anyway. 

"She never seemed unhappy with her original suitors, Demeter. While she might not have been interested in marriage with any of them specifically, she certainly wasn't rejecting them because she didn't want to get married _at all_."

"And how do you know _that_?" Demeter hissed, past that throbbing in her temple that was by now definitely a headache both physical and metaphysical. 

He couldn't have asked her. He hadn't talked to her about Hades, or marrying at all, Persephone had been unknowing, so he couldn't have talked to her about any of that.

"I asked her," Zeus said as if it was obvious, as if he hadn't blown right past both mother and daughter years after that incident and decided what was best for them all as well as in service of making Hades happy. "She just said she'd never thought about it before. She's heard you talk about what you think of marriage, and seen how you've chosen to live your life. I think she would've told me then if she truly _didn't_ want marriage. She knew it was possible to live without it."

"And yet you couldn't talk to either of us when it came down to giving her away. Couldn't talk to _me_." 

She hadn't actually ever talked with Persephone about marriage, or what she might want, or not want, in regards to it. 

She didn't want to give Zeus right about this. Not about anything concerning Persephone’s marriage to Hades, and definitely not this in specific when he hadn’t at the very least informed her of what he was planning to do. What hurt, actually hurt about it all, was that before those nine empty days of wandering, Demeter had thought Zeus held her in such regard he would not do something like that, even if she hadn't ever thought marriage for Persephone would ever come up. Because Zeus had actually never done anything to stop her from doing what she wanted, as she wanted to. Even with having killed Iasion out of jealousy as well as for being a mortal sleeping with a goddess, and she being the first to do so with Harmonia only being after, and a lesser goddess as well, he had otherwise let her do as she wished.

He'd been full of confused disbelief like all the rest when she'd at the time broken off with Karmanor - they were still close and enjoyed each other every now and then - but he'd only shrugged in the end. 

Had, yes, tried to convince her to marry him when they got involved, but he'd stepped back when she'd finally and irrevocably made known what she wanted. Had delighted in the birth of their daughter anyway, and had never said anything about Demeter coming and going to Olympos as she wished. 

And yet he'd let her wander, trying to find any trace of her daughter when she could feel nothing of her, for nine days. Had let her suffer not just the lack of knowledge of what had happened, but the aching emptiness of the lack of Persephone's divine essence. Had left her in such manner, since divine essences were of course impossible to feel when the deity in question was in the Underworld, even if they were alive. Zeus had prioritized his own comfort, and, apparently, thinking he didn't need to inform either of them just because it was his right to marry his daughter off, over actually telling her, telling his daughter, what he’d decided.

Zeus stared at her, and Demeter knew it would take longer than this until he might accept he had done something wrong, if he ever did. Angry as she was, she still hoped he would, even if she wouldn't actually forgive him for how he'd gone about the whole matter. 

She was, usually, fond of Zeus. He'd won her belief in him, her respect, in those days after his five siblings had been disgorged, before the war. He’d won more than that afterwards, during their brief dalliance. It hurt a surprising amount to feel like he might not have respected her in the same way.

"Can you actually say you wouldn't have hidden Persephone if I'd told you I was marrying her to Hades?" Zeus' gaze and voice was flat, and Demeter bared her teeth.

"That is _not_ the point, Zeus!"

It didn't matter that he was right. It simply wasn't the point.

"Demeter... I knew you wouldn't be happy, and that's why I waited to talk to you." Frowning, Zeus slowly unfolded his arms and reached out, flinching along with Demeter when she took a step back to avoid his hand. "But do you actually think I would give our daughter a bad husband when she was open to being married?"

That...

"You knowing Persephone was theoretically not against the idea of marriage, and Hades potentially being a suitable husband has _nothing_ to do with this, Zeus."

She was done.

Her heart hurt as well as her head, and she felt foolish to still hope Zeus would at some point accept he'd gone about this the wrong way, no matter what rights he had as Persephone's father and king. 

At this point it might honestly just be better if it took a good, long while before he realized it, because she wouldn't actually accept any gesture Zeus might make as an apology for now. 

She'd _trusted him_.

"We're going to be late," she said as Zeus opened his mouth to say something she was no longer willing to even vaguely entertain. Stepping around him, Demeter stormed into Tantalos' palace agitated and exhausted even before the feast the Deathless Ones had been invited to had begun.


	2. Mother and Daughter, After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year after Zeus and Demeter's "talk", Persephone and Demeter end up dunking on Zeus for that conversation, as well as talking about family and marriage.

The flight back to Eleusis was taken in companionable silence after waving Hermes off. Before they’d even left, Persephone had embraced her mother upon first stepping out of the entrance to the Underworld, as she always did, and now they stood shoulder to shoulder, the land below rushing past. 

There would be time aplenty later to talk. This moment was for silence, simply basking in each other's presence at the moment where the previous long absence made return most sweetest and any aggravations the smallest. Anyway, it wasn't as if Persephone was liable to immediately be angry at her mother upon returning, unless they'd parted on a quarrel. They'd learned very soon after the rhythm of Persephone's life after marriage had settled a little that having a quarrel was one of the worst ways to part and spend half a year apart, and then to reunite on. Not that they had arguments often, but now they took care for Persephone not to leave on one.

Breathing in the sweet western wind, promising warmth and growth by now, Persephone smiled and tipped her head sideways. Demeter huffed but didn’t shake her off, even though Persephone was now squashed against her arm and hindering in her steering the drakones.

Instead she transferred the reins to the other hand and wrapped her arm around her daughter, smiling soon as well.

It didn't take long until they'd landed outside the house in Eleusis, which was still where most of the time was spent next to Crete and then Olympos, and freed the drakones of the yoke. They were still a little lazy this early in the year, with the breeze still chill and the sun not so swelteringly warm, but they made a pretty pile where they curled up around each other in the new-growing grass, and Persephone smiled to see them. Stilled and tipped her head at a loud, shattering clatter, which was followed by a yell from inside the house, easily heard since both the gate to the walled courtyard and the door into the house itself were both open.

"That sounded like Khrysothemis," she said, glancing to her mother. "Is everyone here?"

Demeter, who'd been eyeing the door with a narrowed look creeping over her face, turned back to Persephone with a smile hovering between fond happiness and exasperation. No matter her love of children, her own specifically and children in general, Demeter quickly ran out, if not of patience, then energy to deal with a certain amount of energy.

Energy which children had plenty of to use for various terrible ends, as proven by another shout. Persephone sighed, pulled into a reluctant smile. At least she wasn’t expected to deal with situations like that unless she was the closest one on hand, and then only until either Demeter or Iasion presented themselves on the scene. 

Persephone was never sure if she was glad children seemed to be something Hades was interested in as little as she was, or if she'd miss them at some point. Hadn't been sure about it since the question had first occurred to her when she'd come back after that first, long year and been faced with her mother holding a couple months' old baby girl in her arms. What she did know, aside from that they were clearly exhausting, was that she didn't want to carry them herself. 

It wasn’t necessarily a new thought as such, but it hadn’t been particularly acute before her abduction, before Hades, before Despoina in Demeter’s arms. This wasn't something she'd talked to her mother about yet.

She knew she’d have to, at some point, but Persephone would delay it for as long as possible.

"Iasion suggested it. It's as rewarding as it's exhausting." Another look to the open gate while she dealt with the straps and reins for the chariot, so it could all be hung up neatly. "It does allow me more chances to steal away, however, with more hands and eyes around. Not that Korybas requires much true minding any more, but there's been more children in the house lately than I originally ever had to deal with at once."

Persephone laughed, as much at Demeter's pointed look as the wry acceptance in her voice. Her mother wasn’t unhappy right now, no matter the exasperation, and Persephone could only fear the moment when Demeter would have to lose Iasion again, and this time for good. At least there would still be Karmanor, and all the divine children, but still.

"So I _wasn't_ enough of a handful to make up for three at once?"

"You have not, and never will, come anywhere close to Despoina and Philomelos, Persephone," Demeter said with a snort, but she was also smiling, however wryly.

"That's undoubtedly true," Persephone admitted, since for all that her and Demeter's actual fights could be terrible, they were rare. Arguments were not the same thing. "So does that mean you use Despoina to keep an eye on the twins as often as you can?"

Persephone smiled beatifically at her mother's briefly wide-eyed look, and then Demeter laughed sheepishly. Smirking now, Persephone reached over to catch one of her mother's hands, squeezing it. 

"I won't tell. Well, I think I'm ready to face the house, now."

It would certainly be fun, after having spent half the year in much more restrained surroundings. It would also keep her mind off Hades, and how her heart would soon be aching for the lack of him, much like her mother not being close by when she was in the Underworld pained her. Demeter, though, turned her hand in Persephone's to grip it back and held it. Her warm, dark brown eyes flicked between the house, Persephone's face, and out over the green shoots on the fields surrounding a home Persephone had become as attached to as Olympos and Karmanor's home in Crete. The house in Eleusis was also much closer to either of those other two locations than their refuge in Thrinacia, for as lovely as the island was and still dear to her.

"Mother?" Frowning, Persephone turned to face Demeter, her head cocked. Her mother didn't seem upset, as such, and Persephone's frown slowly unknitted and her thick eyebrows rose up on her forehead much like towering, fluffy clouds parade across the sky. Demeter, in the face of the silent prompting, finally sighed.

"I talked to your father, last year."

"Oh, my _father_ ," Persephone snipped, lovely brown eyes immediately as narrowed as the dangerous strait at Chalcis, and she wouldn't have been the least pleased to hear that it was in moments like these she looked the most like her father, with stiffening lines around her mouth and eyes emphasizing her cheekbones and heavy brows. "I didn't think you were so much as acknowledging him yet."

Was she feeling a little betrayed? No. Yes. She didn't know. She was just full of resentment, still, and though it should probably be fair to let him try and talk to her since she'd long since warmed up to Hades, Persephone wasn't much minded to do so just yet. 

Her mood lightened a little when Demeter smiled, grimly pleased. So it wasn't her mother softening.

"It wasn't by choice." She shook her head, stray strands of reddish-gold that'd escaped her bound tresses brushing her cheeks and shoulders. "Apparently it’s possible to drive Zeus to talk about things he doesn't want to deal with if you want to talk about it even less than he does."

It was not particularly amusing, but the suggestion of her father driven to confront Demeter because she'd been avoiding both him and the topic so insistently Zeus was rather goaded into taking matters into his own hands on the other hand, _was_. He was so very good at not talking about things he thought he could get away with not confronting, that him being forced to do so did bring some cold amusement.

"... What _did_ he think you didn't want to talk to him about?" Persephone couldn't figure out what it might be - there really wasn't much to talk about when it came to her abduction, now was there? As little as she liked that he hadn't told her or her mother what might happen, and she would hold onto that anger for as long as she well pleased, he hadn't, technically, done anything wrong. They all knew that. Demeter's anger had been an attempt at foiling Zeus and his marriage plan, which would have Persephone only extremely rarely seeing her mother again, not a protest for a wrong done.

"Iasion." 

Eyes hooded and her lips pressed thin, Demeter looked towards the house again as if to reassure herself, even if none of the people inside were currently visible. And Iasion, as the only now-fully mortal one, couldn't be sensed from a distance anyway. Zeus bringing his son back had stripped every sliver and drop of divine blood that had once marked him, as a son of Zeus and more than mortal one as such more specifically. It was the only reason, after all, he’d still been alive, and looking no older than mid-thirties, by the time of Kadmos and Harmonia’s wedding. Philomelos, mortal as he was, was still more obvious as a child of a deity and a mortal than Iasion now was.

Persephone stared at her mother for a moment, incredulous. "Does he know you so little?"

"More likely the accumulative effect of me remaining aloof from him since your abduction, even if I have returned as needed to Olympos since then. And certainly none of that was alleviated by him killing Iasion." Demeter snorted, some of the shadow marring her face lightening. He'd just barely rescued, not redeemed, himself by bringing Iasion back. Persephone was honestly in some ways in awe of her mother's deep affection for her father, surviving her own abduction and now this, too. Of course, if Zeus hadn't been able to circumvent death and fate on a technicality, then the matter might not be the same. Or, at least, Persephone knew that was what her mother told herself, but Persephone herself had doubts about that. Zeus wouldn't - didn't - deserve it, but while both mother and daughter held grudges burning cold enough to light and warm the deepest pits of Tartaros, Demeter did so more rarely, and Zeus wasn’t a target that she could keep it alive against for all time.

Persephone could, though there was also some part of her that might wish otherwise, which was the exact reason why she hadn’t gone back to Olympos other than for the Great Year anniversary celebrations for the defeat of the Titans ever since she first came back- And when she did do so, she avoided Zeus or outright ignored him. Demeter, in contrast, did actually greet him, and certainly didn't pretend he didn't exist when standing right next to her.

"So he got desperate and made like a bull, if less literally than he _can_ be in such wise," Persephone said, rolling her eyes.

Her mother laughing was sweet music, and Persephone smiled as she watched Demeter's shoulders tremble with her amusement, the air around them turning into a light, flowery scent much thicker than the spring flowers growing all around the house could answer for. She needed to go about and pick some of them, though she wasn't sure yet how she might wish to arrange them. Something would come to her on that front later, surely.

Finally, Demeter quieted and slumped a little against the chariot, sighing as she pressed a hand to her mouth, and Persephone figured that was it for this conversation. Long before she'd grown her last little bit she'd learned to read her mother, and if Demeter was to actually enjoy her daughter’s return and reunion with the whole family and not have to withdraw, it was probably time to move on into the house and face the horde.

Not that all of them were as rambunctious as the five year old twins, but that didn't really matter.

"Should w---"

"Zeus said he once asked you what you thought of the idea of marriage," Demeter said, once more not looking at her, and Persephone stiffened, whirling around. A couple of the metal bands that bound off her hair in tresses clattered against each other in her fury, gold, ruby and carnelian to match her hair and eyes.

"He did n---!" Pause. Persephone frowned as she cut herself off, crossing her arms over her chest, the jewelled beads and metal flowers of her bracelets clinking together. "Back when Apollo and the others tried to court me? I'd forgotten about that... I suppose he did."

Not that he'd talked about Hades back then, either explicitly or implicitly, or at any time since. She could probably be forgiven for forgetting the wry, soothing rumble of her father's voice asking _are you relieved? Or would you have wanted one of them to be allowed to marry you?_ as they watched Demeter tell her eager, young suitors off. The very next day Demeter had removed the two of them to Crete, and then, when she apparently decided that hadn't been enough, to Thrinacia.

"Well?" Demeter, eyes still hooded, now turned to face her, and Persephone huffed.

"I hadn't even thought about it before! It wasn't like it'd mattered. You and Zeus weren't married, you and _Karmanor_ weren't married, and it wasn't like you ever talked about it." Calming herself, Persephone took an unnecessary breath, held it for a beat, then let it go. Tipped her head back to look up at the endless Eleusian sky, spring bright and dotted with high, distant little clouds, driven by a wind that was barely a whisper of a kiss down here. "I didn't know anything... I didn't know what to think, but the idea of marrying either Ares, Hermes or Apollo was just _strange_ , and that's what I told him."

She had, most definitely, not said 'I don't want to marry at all'. The idea of marriage introduced, Persephone had actually found it intriguing, but as soon as she'd tried to think of any particular god that she might call 'husband', she'd always blanked and ended up laughing at the whole thing. None she'd thought of had seemed reasonable, for one reason or other.

Hades had never come to mind at all, near invisible as he was among them.

"You never said anything."

Persephone watched her mother, her deep, soft brown eyes dark like a shadowed forest dell, holding such secrets as rabbits' warrens, carefully hidden fawns and sweet, spring-water, cold and fresh. Watched her, and felt all of fourteen again. It made her tighten her arms and raise her chin, entirely too reflexively.

Not that that meant fourteen in the way mortal girls were fourteen, aside from when she actually had lived only fourteen physical years, but that was rather far into the past. Certainly long since past by the point her first hapless suitors had been firmly disabused of their notion of courting her. She'd been fourteen in the same way Apollo and Artemis and Hermes were hovering somewhere around nineteen, maybe. She'd probably definitely _acted_ nothing more than fourteen when Demeter had stuck them on Thrinacia, for all that she'd started edging towards ageing again, and by the time Hades had come, she'd been sixteen.

When she came back to him that first time, she'd landed at twenty and felt comfortable in it, and had been pretty angry at herself for wondering if he should like it. It wasn't as if it mattered what Hades thought of her apparent age when she hadn't wanted him to approve of anything about her at all up until that point. He'd only smiled when he'd seen her, and Persephone had settled even more firmly, then. Twenty was a good age, and she liked it. Youthful still, but not with the same sort of wide-eyed callowness as earlier.

"Mother," Persephone said, trying for patience over a childish sense of defensiveness, "you didn't want to talk about it. You didn't even want to explain why you not wanting me to marry Apollo, Ares, or Hermes necessitated us hiding on Thrinacia. For _years_! I also didn't want to tell you I hadn't disliked even the possibility of the idea of marriage as it presented itself."

Much like the idea of marriage, she hadn't actually thought about her mother's opinion on it before then. After the unexpected and rude removal to the island, Persephone hadn't been able to avoid it while she turned what had seemed like the only very distantly possible idea of marriage around in her head. Her mother didn't care for it. That'd been obvious as soon as she actually thought about it. Talking to her about it? How was she supposed to do that?

Even if she hadn't been very cross with her mother right then for taking her away not just from Olympos and her friends and family there, but then Crete and her half-siblings as well. Demeter had nearly ruined Thrinacia for her when she'd not only refused to leave the island, but forbidden Persephone to do so as well.

"I---" Demeter dragged a hand down her face, closing her eyes in the passing of it and pressed her lips thin. "It didn't occur to me you might think differently, Persephone. I was merely trying to avoid the exact situation that still happened... Except I _had_ thought Zeus would still talk to me beforehand."

Me. Not us. Persephone sighed, trying not to feel resentful. Part of both of their anger was clearly for the same reason. Persephone really also had thought her mother would've considered it just as important that _she_ was informed as it was that her mother was.

"Of _course_ he didn't," Persephone hissed, and while she probably wouldn't have said or believed that a hundred years ago, now it was easy and also fuelled by her cold, cold anger. He might have talked to her about the abstract idea of marriage once, but that was not the same. To her father, though, it probably was. That on top of Zeus not wanting to confront Demeter or allow her any more time to do something even more drastic than she already had. "You took us all the way to Thrinacia and then forbade me to leave and everyone else from coming to visit!"

"The Oceanids were allowed, Persephone. And Artemis and Athena." Demeter frowned, dark mulishness in her voice and expression both that Persephone didn't understand before she continued. "Your father said the same thing."

Oh.

Persephone grimaced, not in the least happy to know she shared some of the same reservations regarding Demeter's behaviour back then as Zeus, but honestly, they were perfectly reasonable complaints to have! 

The Oceanids, charming and certainly good friends to have, but all of the ones permitted to visit young, no older than Persephone had seemed. Artemis and Athena, both of them already decided in their paths to never dip into marriage. Of course all of them had been allowed. Normally Persephone wouldn't have cared, they were all good friends or acquaintances at the least, but given the circumstances and Persephone's greater understanding thanks to it, it'd rankled, especially at first.

"And Apollo, after a couple years," Persephone allowed with another sigh, no matter that thinking about that whole thing brought up remembered anger, still simmering. She didn't want to lean into it, not so soon after coming back. "But you almost ruined Thrinacia for me."

"Oh." Demeter stared at her, unguardedly wide-eyed for a moment. Reaching out, she touched the back of Persephone's hand, tucked tight against her arm as her arms were still folded against her chest. "I'm sorry, my heart."

Not quite slumping, but also not remaining so very still, Persephone shrugged. Shifted her weight towards Demeter after another moment or two, and only then did her mother take her hand back. 

It felt good to at least have confessed that part. Visits to Thrinacia, usually in conjunction with whenever they stayed for any time on Crete, had been one of her great joys growing up. The island was beautiful and Helios' cattle fun to bother, and it'd somehow felt like a secret place, for only her and her mother in a way. Crete had Karmanor, Khrysothemis, and Eubouleos, and sometimes her father, too, fond of the island as he was, and rightly so. It was a precious place, to be sure, but Thrinacia was where she and her mother had gone, alone.

Persephone would never have imagined that being forbidden from leaving would turn such a loved place into something that felt like a prison. The feeling had eased with the years, to be sure, but she had only recently been able to go back and enjoy the familiar sights without feeling any stirring of resentment.

"So he didn't talk to us because he didn't want you to retreat further, but he granted Hades leave because he knew I wasn't against marriage." It should, perhaps, be a question, but as Persephone talked it became less and less of one, though she was frowning, still, thinking through it. She'd been so angry - at both Hades and Zeus - in the beginning, had felt so betrayed and confused. She'd completely forgotten her father hadn't actually gone completely against her wishes. Had, actually, gone through at least a minimum of effort to check if she would like to marry, or at some point take an oath and remain unwed.

It was even possible that he’d have accepted her saying she wasn’t going to marry but not taking an oath against it, since Demeter had never done any such thing.

It didn't soothe her grudge, but... reluctantly, Persephone had to admit that was the tiniest thing in Zeus' favour. Maybe.

"That doesn't make up for it," Demeter said, and Persephone snorted. Shook her head, metal clinking against metal.

"It doesn't."

Because it didn't. Demeter and Persephone smiled thinly at each other, buoyed by their being in agreement. Almost, Persephone let that be it. Almost, for it would be easier not to, now that they'd already talked about things they hadn't touched since she'd first been released from her now-husband. That was also the reason for pushing forward, however. They were already talking about it, and the initial relief of her mother acquiescing to her judgement when she'd revealed she'd eaten the pomegranate seeds had long since settled.

"You're still angry at Hades, though," she said, drumming her fingers against her arm and the soft, fine cloth of the short, tight sleeve of her dress. The heavily embroidered hem now sported little rock crystals sewn in among the gold thread. "He's only been getting better, as a husband."

"I know, my darling," Demeter sighed, frowning. Crossed her arms over her chest, and the only difference between their dress was that Demeter favoured the extra bodice that covered her breasts, and the multitude of little gems interspersed with the embroideries on Persephone's various layers. the rows of gold flowers sewn into the top layer flounce of Demeter's wrap-around skirt still winked brightly in the light, matching Persephone’s. "And you're the only reason I never pushed further, beyond getting you back initially. But he talked not to me or you _either_ , and he certainly found the worst way of taking you below. I wonder if he doesn't get something out of it. This is the second time he's resorted to abductions. He's not _that_ awkward about talking to people, or potential lovers, surely."

Demeter huffed and Persephone didn't clear her throat, if only so she wouldn't be heard. Flicked her glance away and then back to her mother. She was not touching this subject. She was just not. Not with her _mother_. Luckily, Demeter clearly wasn't expecting a response.

"And he, like Zeus, left me searching for over a week, unknowing of the situation and the reason, as well as the complete lack of your presence."

Persephone sighed and smiled faintly. "I suppose, since I am angry at Father still, you can be displeased with Hades."

Chuckling wryly, Demeter reached out to wrap an arm around Persephone's shoulders, pulling her close while also starting to walk towards the open door of the gate. "Precisely. Let's see what the little harpies have done in my absence, then."

From inside the house, there was, luckily, no comically timed scream or crashes sounding at that pronouncement. 

There was only Iasion, stepping outside with Philomelos tossed over one shoulder and holding one of Ploutos' hands where the young god fluttered in the air beside him, with Karmanor on his other side just as Demeter and Persephone stepped through the gate.


	3. Half a Step Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Persephone and Demeter's conversation, Persephone takes another two decades before she decides to talk to her father properly for the first time since she was abducted by her future husband. That it comes relatively shortly after Zeus granted her leave to stay out of the Underworld for years when Hades cheated on her with Minthe has, surely, little to do with it.

Whatever brief thought Persephone might have had about Zeus not acting quite so out of the blue when it came to her marriage, she still didn't truly talk to her father until it was already two decades later after that conversation with Demeter.

It wasn't precisely planned, as such. Minthe seducing her old lover once more and Persephone storming up to Olympos as soon as she could do so delayed many things. Honestly, Persephone hadn't truly expected anything to come from being angry about it. Aside, perhaps, from Hades’ remorse, which hadn’t felt like enough in the moment. How could anything come of it when she was going to her father to ask him to act against the interests of the brother he was most fond of, after all? The brother who he had both given permission to marry her to, and had helped him accomplish it.

The thing was, Persephone had also forgotten Zeus usually gave his children whatever they might ask for.

It would have been simpler to go along with things and not have followed her hurt heart. To prioritize marital harmony over her own fury, for Minthe wasn't actually a threat and Persephone knew it. 

Minthe, however, had wormed herself into Persephone's inner circle down in the Underworld over the years, and Minthe had had designs, not just on Hades, but on her own position. Hades allowing himself to be seduced and convinced by Minthe's arguments even if he would never had played along with her hopeful plans of eventually taking Persephone’s place had plain hurt. Far more than she’d have thought it ever would, and so she'd gone to her father and asked him to bend the laws of cosmic function for her when she hadn't so much as looked at him in over a hundred years.

He had, and so for a whole Great Year Persephone had stayed on the surface. 

The normal state of things had now returned to what it had been since the year after Hades had taken her, but it’d been kind of fragile in the couple years since. They were working on it, but Persephone was still nursing hurt.

Even so, when she and Demeter scaled the short, crescent-moon curving stairs that led up to the towering arch of the palace propylaia, Persephone found herself missing Hades again. 

It was in the middle of summer, long still until she returned to the Underworld and to her husband, and before Minthe, before that Great Year, Persephone had always started to miss him at this time of year. In these nine years and the last couple since then, she hadn't. Now, though, as they came to the top and found Zeus standing in the arch there, half in shadow and a small, quirked smile in greeting for them, Persephone did find herself missing her husband once more at a time she usually did do so. At a time she would usually have to wait months still to see him, but Zeus had brought a mortal to Olympos, made him immortal and appointed him Cupbearer instead of Hebe, and they were having a family feast as an introduction.

Hades might actually come, for this. Persephone doubted it, for Hades preferred to avoid any and all feasts he could, in sharp contrast to her mother where they were otherwise similar, for while Demeter quickly tired, she still liked to attend. Persephone still found herself, contrary to the last couple years, hoping he would indeed come for one of those rare chances to meet him before summer was over. 

If he did, it would only have happened because her father - even if it wasn't for the two of them - had decided to throw a party explicitly inviting more than just the family currently on Olympos.  
Persephone wasn’t sure what she thought about that, considering the reason for it, but the Trojan prince must truly be something spectacular for all this effort. So far, Zeus had only brought favoured mortal sons on brief visits to Olympos, and that hadn’t exactly gone well, so the exception here was clear as day.

Zeus leaned down to kiss Demeter's cheek, and Persephone wondered again at her mother’s willingness to forgive him. She was, however, reminded once again that while she was married because of him and his bull-like manner in how he'd gone about it, he had, also, once asked her what she thought about marriage.

As her mother huffed but leaned towards her brother, tipping her face up for the kiss, Persephone decided she was perhaps ready to actually talk to her father once more.

"Father?" Persephone said, deliberately both in address and the way she stopped in front of him, if not leaning in for any sort of greeting. 

Zeus blinked, his eyes briefly wide before he arched an eyebrow and settled down from being about to follow Demeter deeper into the propylaia with its columns and arches. He’d become used to Persephone refusing even the most briefest of niceties, even less actually talking to him. Demeter paused where she was nearly past the arch and looked back, a matching eyebrow raised, and then continued on, leaving her daughter to it. 

Persephone hadn't called Zeus 'father' since that one last time she'd had a chance to talk to him before Demeter had removed them from Olympos. Perhaps it was to some amusement that it'd been the conversation where he'd asked her what she thought about marriage. Even coming to him to ask for his indulgence, she'd addressed him by his name, not what he personally was to her.

"Why didn't you send Hermes, or Iris, to Thrinacia with some official excuse, but really for telling _me_ what was to come, if not Mother? Or even Artemis or Athena, when they were so often by and she wouldn't have noted them as strange at all. They even came by for a visit shortly before Hades came!"

Persephone stared Zeus full in the face as she spoke, one of the few given to do so. She did of course in no way lack force of presence or will to have made a similar impression if she should have been forced to look up at him, but she was much pleased she could indeed look him straight in the eyes. 

Persephone had been of a height with her father since she truly had been thirteen, and had since then, still did, harbour a tiny bit of jealous disappointment that she couldn't have grown taller. Maybe not as tall as her grandmother, but in honesty that was what she'd aspired to when she'd first grown taller than both the Horai and the Charites, then Hestia, her mother, then _Hera_.

One couldn't have everything, unfortunately. Persephone had to content herself with being among the few tallest goddesses in the sphere.

"Persephone," Zeus said, and despite what she'd thought, he met her gaze without flinching and with no sheepish admission of guilt or surprise for not having thought of such a simple solution, "you lie as terribly as I do, especially to your mother."

Persephone flushed, almost turned right on her heel and stomped past her father, but then reined herself in. He wasn't wrong. She could not lie to her mother at all, and just barely better to anyone else. It was the reason she'd contemplated and then discarded the possibility of claiming Hades had tricked her into eating the pomegranate seeds. Besides, no matter the brief urge to push all of that onto Hades, Persephone hadn't actually wanted to lie to her mother as if she was five and trying to hide that she'd stolen and eaten a bunch of Hestia's cookies.

"All right, perhaps that's true," Persephone allowed after a moment, however reluctantly. Embarrassment soon fled, and she was frowning again. "But you let me--- He even _talked to me_ right before it, and said nothing of what he was there to do!"

Technically that wasn't Zeus' fault. He had, however, enabled his brother, given permission for whatever he chose to do in the course of gathering Persephone for marriage, and more than that he had ignored his daughter crying for his aid. And so, over a hundred years later, with her father right in front of her and less able to ignore her, Persephone voiced complaints she'd already thrust at her then to-be husband.

Zeus, after a moment of watching Persephone, closed his eyes. He didn't sigh, or shift on his feet, or anything at all really, though there was a slight shift of tension in his shoulders before he opened his eyes again and leaned in.

"I didn't actually expect him to go about it that way, though I understand the thrill of it," Zeus said quietly. "I saw him talk to you - I expected him to have said something then. The narcissi were of course meant to delay you, but they were just as much intended as your bridal gift as an excuse to your mother for why you were so far away from everyone else."

Zeus shook his head, a consternated little frown on his face. For all that he'd done up until that point when it came to lovers, and for all that he'd done since, if Zeus actually exchanged words with the object of his amorous intentions before removing her from her current location, he did proclaim his intent at that point. For some unearthly reason Hades hadn't.

"You--- were watching?" Persephone heard herself fairly croak, as embarrassing as that was. A tangle of emotion choked her up, and she had to close her hands into fists to hide the tremble.

"Of course." Zeus frowned, his tone descending into a rumble. Was he actually _offended_ she would have thought otherwise? Persephone had no chance to sort either that or her emotions out. "I gave Hades permission to marry you, suitable as as he was as a husband for you and believing he would honour you, and he is my brother. That does not mean I would leave such an occasion to no oversight at all."

Her anger, but, at the same time, relief, even some gratitude, was neither soothed nor fanned by the words. They just bounced about each other inside her chest, crashing together and flying apart like great rocks thrown by some primordial warriors as they assaulted a walled city. He'd ignored her calling for him, but he had been watching to make sure it all went well - for _both_ of them, admittedly. He had not bothered to talk to Demeter after, leaving her to search - probably hoping it should be obvious what had happened and that he thus wouldn't _need to_ talk to her.

" _How_ could to leave Mother to search for me for over a week?"

"Deep down Demeter knew what had happened, Persephone," Zeus said, but for as severe as his expression and tone of voice was, he shifted a little on his feet, and his divine essence shifted with him, as great an admission of, if not guilt, then awareness, as there could be. He knew what he had done. "And if she could not come directly to me and instead assuming I somehow wouldn't know what had happened, or that I would not have given my permission for this to occur, I thought it better she was given time to accept it."

Persephone stared at her father, not sure whether she was angry, aghast, or just plain exasperated.

Maybe luckily - for Zeus and his relationship with his daughter, if not for Persephone or Demeter - Persephone had already suspected something of the like. When she’d later turned the events around in her head after she'd first gotten to return and her mother told her what had happened on her end, that her father might have been offended Demeter hadn't gone immediately to him had come to mind quite quickly. She hadn't wanted to think it, but here it was now, spelled out.

Briefly, Persephone considered not just holding onto her anger - for she was still angry - but to fall back on to the pattern of the last hundred years. Eyeing her father, Persephone scowled.

"I hope," she said tightly, tone so chilly the air almost crackled around her, "that for the next daughter you give in marriage, neither she nor her mother will have to suffer like I and Demeter have had to."

This time her father did flinch, just the tiniest bit, and Persephone's urge flittered away, up into the bright summer sky. If he actually learned something from this, perhaps she would just nurse her anger quietly, until she was ready to let it go. Talking to Zeus wasn't such a great hardship, and though she might miss the summer brightness of days before she was taken to Thrinacia and her father's huge hand at her back, she'd grown up now. She did not need him there always, and when she did he was still there for her. Been there even when she had been quite rude in her anger, for she was still angry at him too. And yet he’s still given her what she’d wanted, much like he had when she was a child.

"I doubt it will come up any time soon," Zeus said finally, but his hedging didn’t cover for his earlier reaction, and Persephone was, if not mollified, then willing to set it aside.

Besides, she was also just the tiniest bit well-disposed towards him today for the chance to see Hades, now that she was missing her husband again.

"I was wondering, why have this introductory feast _now_?" Persephone asked as she stepped close and turned to walk through the gate. Zeus turned with her as if he hadn't doubted in the least that she would still want to walk beside him and talk to him after all the things that had just been said. "The next great year anniversary feast isn't that far away. You've appointed a new Cupbearer, wouldn't that be a far more suitable occasion to introduce him?"

Persephone paused, then glanced to her father, eyes narrowing. "Have you upset another daughter, doing this?"

If he'd upset sweet little Hebe...

"I don't make a business of upsetting my daughters, no matter what it might seem like, Persephone." Zeus frowned at her, then shook his head. "Hebe told me herself, without prompting, that she was getting less and less interested in her duty as the Cupbearer."

She would, then, still remain _a_ cupbearer of Olympos, but perhaps - though she was nowhere near about to be married - she thought herself nearing too old for such a task? Persephone would have to talk to her, if not now, then later.

"And while I have no doubt Ganymede would perform exemplarily should I delay his formal introduction until the next anniversary feast, his duties will deal most closely with myself and the council. This is far more suitable."

He was being _soft_. This prince of Troy must make truly a shining presence if her father was going through such effort for him. Persephone couldn't wait to see him, because she was starting to feel this needed to be seen to be believed. 

Her mother had of course described what had happened a month ago when Zeus made Ganymede immortal, but words were one thing, sight another. In a couple hours, then, she’d see it for herself. For now, Persephone briefly touched Zeus’ arm as they stepped out of the shadows of the propylaia and out onto the sun-lit central courtyard.

"I'll see you and everyone else later, Father."

Persephone veered off, towards the eastern side of the palace where the closest exit to the garden was. She always missed it when gone. It’d been one of her few true regrets when it came to avoiding Olympos and her father. So she was going to take the long way around to the rooms that belonged to Demeter and her children here on Olympos, and later...

Later there wouldn't be just the reason for this feast, but Hades, as well. Persephone found herself smiling at the thought like she hadn't done in years.


	4. A Hand Offered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decades after Zeus and Persephone’s conversation at Ganymede’s introduction on Olympos, Hades offers Demeter a reconciliation gift. It’s not one she takes, but the intent of it lingers in her thoughts until she’s ready to offer a similar gesture in return.

Winter, especially so late it was almost the spring equinox and time for Persephone to return, was always hard. Demeter found herself on Olympos more often than not during these times, which was why she was right there when Dionysos was granted apotheosis and the following wedding to Ariadne was celebrated. It was a smaller celebration than it could have been, but the happy couple had been more focused on actually getting married than, perhaps, matching the ceremony and feast to Dionysos' new status. It made it more tolerable for Demeter, there being less people around, but it didn't exhaust her any less, in the end.

To seize a moment of peace and silence, Demeter stepped out onto the balcony, cool air meeting her. Had this been a mortal feast in a mortal palace, it might not have saved her, but here the sound from the inside was immediately cut out, no matter the open windows and doors.

It was chilly out here. Frost, though not much more than that, decorated the grass stretching out on the other side of the road. The road itself was a silvery band, like a river as straight and still as a long, narrow piece of glass. She should've brought a shawl, but feeling neither like going inside to fetch one, nor like cheating by warming up the air around herself, Demeter simply ignored the prickle against her skin as she tipped her head back to watch the sky. It wasn't as if the cold actually did anything to her.

The ringing clatter of silver hooves and wheel fittings drew Demeter's attention back down, to the road.

She stared, quite taken by surprise, to see the intimidating ensemble of Hades and his chariot coming to a stop. The four, large horses like abyssal shadows against the night, even with their bright hooves. Demeter watched Hades stand there for a long moment even after the chariot had long since stopped moving, and then finally dismount, using a nearby bench to secure the reins. He disappeared into the propylaia, and Demeter wasn't quite feeling so curious as to go back inside and find out what Hades had come for. It couldn’t be Persephone, not anything truly awful, she knew. Hades wouldn't have been walking with solid, weighty reluctance and no sense of urgency, if so.

Demeter wasn't sure whether or not she was surprised when the door behind her opened and Hades stepped up beside her, still as calm as when he'd arrived, though he looked a little pinched, a familiar expression that hadn’t ever bloomed into its pouting reality even back when they had been newly freed from their father's stomach.

The important thing was that Hades was neither worried nor upset, so there was no reason for her to be so either, What Hades most certainly was, however, was awkward and uncomfortable, though he did a stellar job of hiding those emotions to anyone who wasn’t his siblings.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Demeter finally said when it seemed Hades was content to draw this out for far too long. She’d come out here to relax, not deal with the subtle, shifting tower of Hades and whatever he thought he had to say to her. Her brother sighed, soft and aggrieved.

"I'm not staying."

Of course he wasn't. If he was, Persephone would’ve come with him, and she was conspicuously absent. Rolling her eyes, Demeter shot Hades a sidelong glance, her voice sharp when she did speak again. 

"I hope you brought a wedding gift, at least."

Particularly so if he truly wasn't staying. Dionysos wasn't her son, but he was now one of the Deathless Ones, their nephew, and this was a wedding. A gift was the least to be expected. Hades sighed again, though less aggrieved this time, and nodded sharply.

"Persephone made sure I had one with me."

Blinking, Demeter shook her head slowly. A gift coming with Hades at all was unexpected enough, but that her daughter had been the one to think of it was even more so. Not that Persephone didn't give gifts, but they were usually spontaneous things, or ones much more easily remembered, like birthday ones. That there were gifts tied to other occasions Persephone usually forgot. Except for nowadays, apparently. Or maybe the reason Persephone had thought of a gift lay in that Dionysos had come down while she was in the Underworld. When Hades then had said where he was going she didn’t just remember Dionysos himself and might have wished to send a gift along either way, but that such an occasion would warrant a gift..

Either way, her daughter was... a little more grown-up than she'd been if not well over a hundred years ago, then decades, certainly.

Demeter returned her gaze to the sky, spread out above them in cloudless, star-studded glory. She couldn't concentrate on it, however. Not when Hades stood there silently beside her like he was, something which had once been comforting. His solid, quiet presence and their mutual lack of need for talking shoring up each other when they got tired of everyone else. Now, however, when he'd expressly come out here and stood so close, now, when there was Persephone, if not literally at the moment then metaphorically and metaphysically, between them, it did not.

"What _is i_ \---"

"Deme---"

As one they had spoken and stopped speaking as well, and looked to each other, briefly wide-eyed. Hades, snorting softly, closed his eyes - as gray as Zeus', as their mother's - for a moment. Nodded sharply and straightened up, turning to face Demeter fully instead of facing the road, hands neatly, if not fully stiffly, folded behind him. Weighing between turning around or not, Demeter ended up facing Hades as well, eyebrow arched.

"Don't do that," Hades muttered, a brief moment of something that could have been levity, but he didn't let it linger to become awkward if Demeter chose not to lean into it. Instead he shifted a little, more in the weight and essence of him than physically, and when he met Demeter's eyes again, Hades was more serious than she'd seen him in a very long time. It would have been alarming, except that he wasn't upset or even angry - just awkward, still. "It occurred to me, having allowed the rules to be broken, and twice so in short order, I should offer you the same."

Demeter blinked, staring up at Hades.

Twice broken - yes, thrice or four times, even, if Thyone, Hyacinthus and Periboia should each be counted alone rather than together, and then that earlier sad, foolish business with Orpheus.

"Offer me the same?" Demeter echoed, feeling like she surely knew what this was about and unwilling to follow through on that line of thought.

"Iasion, Demeter. If you desire it, he will come up while Persephone is below." Hades was graven, his voice the still depths of a quiet lake in the middle of the deepest forest, and his frown could have made a canyon.

It was the only reason Demeter didn't let her temper get the better of her, that Hades was being so serious. 

Iasion. He’d struck her much like his father had, once upon a time, but sweeter, less weighed with history, and he had a terribly wicked sense of humor. He’d charmed her into remaining at the festivities when she’d been ready to withdraw already, and he had, in that short time before Zeus found them, made himself at home in her heart far deeper than Demeter had suspected. 

She had begged, pleaded, _cried_ , into Zeus' lap, Elektra white-faced and shaking beside her, echoing some of her pleas, for the life Iasion’s father had cut short with his own hands.

She'd also sat beside Iasion, now old and worn, well-loved and beloved as the promise of their meeting at Kadmos and Harmonia’s wedding had been fulfilled in the following decades. Thanatos and Hermes both had politely waited outside the door until Iasion had fallen asleep, his wrinkled hand in hers. If Zeus hadn't killed him, it would have taken little for him to rise as Dionysos had just today. He'd been as mortal as any human when he died, stripped of all that made and marked him as close to divine as a mortal son of a god could be, in exchange for renewed life. A long life, well-lived, and it'd been long even before that, for Iasion had been born gifted with life longer than most mortals, even those born as a child of one of the Deathless Ones, got. Iasion, and Hades was offering her even more time with him.

Slowly, Demeter closed her hands into fists.

"I understand what and why you're offering, Hades," Demeter said tightly, and maybe some day she'd be able to thank him for the consideration, for trying to give her what others had demanded. Trying, in his own way, to give her recompense in a manner that made sense to him; a life for a life during the time she was deprived of her daughter.

And that was why she was going to refuse.

"But I had Iasion for decades after Zeus rectified his cruelty, and sent him off peacefully. If you wish to grant me anything, grant me he be reborn to enjoy life once more." After a sharp breath through her nose, Demeter strode past Hades and went back inside.

Clenched fists hid the tremble of her hands. Of anger, of want, but she was not to be placated by one life for another, no matter how tempted she might be. If she met Iasion again, it would be as a new life.

Demeter shook her head, chasing away the memories of Hades trying, however clumsily, to give her something she hadn't at all been ready or willing to accept. The gesture had been sweet, she supposed, but thinking about it just brought back the stirrings of offended anger. What she would much rather have was to not have to give up moments of the time she had with her daughter in summer whenever there were excuses or occasions for Hades to come above while she and Persephone might be on Olympos as well. It happened remarkably often, for all that it should be rare. Especially so considering Hades' reluctance to join festivities either on Olympos or in Poseidon's palace, with or without Persephone.

She could not truly begrudge him the latest occasion, however. Not really, though Demeter had still been minded to hold Persephone back when she'd went to her husband as he'd appeared for the muster against the giants. And then afterwards… Demeter shivered. She never would have wanted to go into the Underworld, but need and necessity had demanded it with the risks to the order if Typhoeus had managed to capture any of them. 

Demeter didn't much like to think about those two days. Less because she truly had to face her daughter as a wife and queen of her own realm for the first time, and more because the location.

Closing her eyes against the memory of imagined weight, the chill down her spine was ruthless, no matter how pale the recollection.

Truly, she didn't understand how Hades could stand it, how he could _enjoy_ living in that place. All she had been able to think about while there was the enclosed, yet so endlessly vast, space inside their father. Bearing down on, crushing them. Had hades reconciled himself to the situation, or did it truly not bother him? At least Persephone had no such experience to make her fear the place, for then her being obliged to stay there for half the year would have wounded Demeter so much more deeply.

"Mother?" Persephone laid a hand on Demeter's arm, almost startling her into jumping. 

Demeter shook her head even as she looking up at her daughter, peeling her attention away from staring unseeing at the table. In the middle of it there was a vase shaped as a cornucopia which held a small sheaf of wheat Persephone had braided when still newly cut. There were blooming crocus blossoms as well as poppy flowers with their seed pods among the corn, evidence of harvest and the oncoming separation.

"I'm fine, Persephone."

Distantly, she heard Ploutos call a greeting, and pressed her lips together, knowing what was now to come. What she'd been trying to distract herself from, but unfortunately her wandering thoughts hadn't let her escape it. Suppressing a sigh, Demeter studied her daughter, from her flowing red hair and large, golden brown eyes, to the slope of her nose and her towering height. She looked so young, and yet, she'd been younger still the first time.

The first time.

This was nowhere near the first time she'd had to let Persephone go with Hermes, but this year it felt near as hard as that time. What if something happened - within the Underworld this time, and not from without. Their father breaking out, _Typhoeus_ breaking out, so recently imprisoned as he’d been. Persephone would then be at the forefront instead of safely ensconced far away from the danger.

It was a ridiculous fear, Demeter knew. 

Things such as the giants and Typhoeus didn't happen so close to each other usually, and it was truly a rare set of circumstances overall. It'd been only a few months since the giants and Typhoeus had fallen, and if anything at all happened, they would know it before, the way everyone was still alert, not waking up to the middle of yet a new crisis. She had nothing to fear. And yet Demeter wished she could hide her daughter like she'd taken her to Thrinacia, hide her and keep her close. Not really to avoid giving her over to Hades, this time, and more to ensure by herself that her daughter was safe, close by, if just for a little while longer.

"Hermes is here," Persephone said slowly, her frown not having lightened with Demeter's answer but rather deepened. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

As if summoned - though more likely he'd stood lurking in the corridor waiting for a moment to step into the doorway - Hermes appeared, apologetic smile on his face and snake-wound wand in hand. 

As if the officiousness of the situation was supposed to aid anything. This was in sharp contrast to the first few decades when Hermes had come stripped even of his winged sandals, as if trying to present an image of merely taking Persephone for a walk between brother and sister instead of being about to escort her down to the Underworld. It would happen regardless of how Hermes was dressed or what he chose to bring; today was the day, and there was nothing Demeter could do about it.

She'd gotten used to it. She really had, though those long, lovely nine years that Persephone had surprisingly asked to remain separate from Hades had been a gift all the sweeter for the years preceding them. And then that respite was over, and the hiatus had only made parting from her daughter achingly difficult. Even more so when her heart had already been carrying the weight of Iasion's recent death.

But she was used to it.

Now, though, as Demeter looked between Hermes and Persephone, she wished for time, for some way to reassure herself Persephone would be safe even when out of sight. Hermes was an able guardian, but he was not Demeter, he was not even Hades. 

Demeter frowned at that. Hades. Her tall, serious brother, so withdrawn he appeared forbidding to most and most of the time. The ruler of one third of the sphere, with the power of such behind him. While part of Demeter's irrational fear was a fear of the danger coming from _within the Underworld_ , in this Hades would be nothing but another shield and sword. Not that Persephone wasn't competent, wasn’t plenty powerful herself and had been even before her marriage. She certainly was no lesser goddess, daimon or nymph, and Demeter knew that. 

Told herself she did, anyway, but at the moment she could not quite help herself.

"Hermes," Demeter said decisively while picking up the cornucopia vase, "tell my brother that if he wishes his wife's presence, he'll have to come fetch her himself."

Silence rung around her as Demeter crossed the floor and put the cornucopia in a window instead, placing it down with exacting care and turning around to count the seating in the room. One couch, two chairs. No, that wouldn't do.

"Mama..?"

Demeter looked up to Persephone's wide-eyed, uncomprehending confusion, smiled at her, then promptly turned to Hermes. Hermes, who was still standing in the doorway, as surprised as her daughter. She flapped a hand at him, and Hermes jolted, then frowned - not displeased, by the quick narrowing of his eyes, but thoughtful. He would be the one to understand first, as expected.

"Well? Go on, then. The King of the Underworld has surely set time aside for the reunion, hasn't he? And he has a chariot and four good horses, all splendid enough to convey his wife down."

Persephone was by now soundlessly sputtering, still baffled. Her nephew, though, flashed Demeter a pointy grin and was gone. Distractions done away with, Demeter hooked a hand around Persephone's elbow and pulled her unresisting daughter towards the kitchen. 

"We need ambrosia and nectar, my eyes. I think we have some of Hestia's cookies left, as well."

"... Unless Ploutos and Korybas have eaten them all, we should," Persephone agreed, her voice faint, still not understanding. Or perhaps she was and she would rather not dare putting trust in what was apparently happening. 

Well, Demeter couldn't promise her daughter this was how things would happen from now on, but for now, this year? Hades was certainly the lesser evil, and he had, for all that she hadn't accepted the gift and it'd been given for the wrong reasons, _tried_ to give her something he thought would make her happy.

"If they have, they'll regret it," Demeter said with a sniff, then raised her voice. "Ploutos!"

The boy, just barely old enough to even be considered a youth but having long since gained the gangly sort of edge that heralded the flowering of boyhood into manhood, appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, hovering in the air.

"Go fetch another two chairs, we need them in the large room," Demeter said, ignoring Ploutos groaning and loudly informing no one at all even as he turned around that he _wasn't a servant_.

Persephone chuckled and separated from her mother, reaching for plates and cups. Paused with them in hand and looked over to where Demeter was pulling a jug out, walking over to the amphora of precious, prepared nectar that'd come directly from Hestia's own hands. They made their own, of course, but nothing could trump Hestia’s skill.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right?" Persephone sounded so bewildered, Demeter ended up laughing, and with it she could ignore the other reasons for doing this. They were fragile, selfish things her daughter didn’t need to know about, until, perhaps, long after those feelings had gone away.

"This way I get another few moments before I have to give you up." It wasn't a lie in the least. It just wasn't the whole truth, and Persephone frowned at her mother, eyes narrowed. Finally, though, she clearly decided she would let the whole matter rest and just enjoy the circumstances, picking up the tableware.

"I should've guessed," she teased and then left the kitchen. Demeter turned to the amphora, carefully filling the pitcher up with nectar with her ears pricked for any unexpected sound. Even if she'd been asleep she would've heard the clattering ring of hooves and chariot announcing her brother's arrival a couple moments later. Taking a breath, and giving Persephone the jug when her daughter appeared in the doorway, Demeter left the kitchen and crossed through the house. Leaned in the doorway out into the walled courtyard, arms crossed over her chest.

Hermes came in through the gate first, shooting Demeter a wink. He looked ready to leave, so she waved him over. There was time enough, Hades was being terribly slow. Hermes wandered over, head cocked and eyebrow arched to brush against the bottom edge of his fillet.

"You're welcome to stay as well, Hermes," Demeter murmured while she kept her eyes on the gate, just barely spotting Hades in the crack between open door and the wall as he came around to the gate.

"Oh, don't mind if I do, Aunt Demeter!" Hermes said cheerfully, boosting himself up in the air to kiss her cheek so he didn't have to stand on tiptoe with Demeter leaning down, and then disappeared inside. 

The narrow-eyed, thin-lipped look Hades sent after Hermes as he came into view, however briefly in evidence, spoke of great betrayal. Demeter almost laughed.

Hades crossed the courtyard only slowly, but even so he could not delay long when it wasn't such a great space and Hades was tall - among the tallest of the gods of their generations, if not the previous ones. He was also pale. Paler than Hermes, hurrying around out in the sun and after a whole spring and summer of it, even interrupted unpleasantly by the giants and Typhoeus. Paler than Persephone, who was always sun-flushed, if a little paler whenever she came back at the onset of spring. 

Hades stopped in front of Demeter, and if one only took in the stiff expression and shoulders, his raised chin, he would have seemed as aloof as the stars must to humans, looking up at the night sky. Demeter, though, saw the faintest shift of his muscles, Hades not quite shifting on his feet, felt the minute, unstable sway of his essence, and perhaps it was petty, but she was pleased.

Much more so than when she’d spotted the uncertain unease Hades had displayed back when he'd tried to offer her Iasion for company every winter, for now he was standing on her doorstep.

"Demeter."

Smiling, if not entirely as warmly as she ever had when they were still young and their rule only beginning, Demeter stepped back, out of the doorway. 

"Come in, Hades."


End file.
